Sometime Around Midnight
by Lara-Van
Summary: It's been six years since the death of Elle Bishop. The Hunger is gone, and the Sylar persona with it. Gabriel is at the bar with Peter and Claire one night when he sees something impossible. AU Syelle oneshot.


A Note From Lara: The original inspiration for this came from the song Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event (hence the title). Great song. The very first time I heard it, the only thought going through my head was "this would be SO PERFECT for an Elle-returns scene." And in other news, this begins sometime after I Am Sylar but before The Invisible Thread. Also features a cameo by Claire's friend Zack!

Oh, and I do have to give credit to queenoftheoutlands for the inspiration for what happens in the first section. You should all go check out her fic Reflections. It's fantastic. The first part is also partially inspired by the song My Immortal by Evanescence.

* * *

_"My eye stayed blue for an hour yesterday!"_

He had told Danko this, and he was surprised the man hadn't picked up on the fact that Agent Talb, whom he was supposed to be impersonating, had green eyes. Weren't these government crazies supposed to be observant? But Sylar was extremely glad that Danko _hadn't_ noticed. Quite apart from the embarrassment of his weakness the day before, the whole humiliating situation would have immediately been made a thousand times worse if anyone- _anyone_- had known who he had woken up as the day before yesterday. Who he had quite unexpectedly found staring back at him from the mirror in "his" apartment.

It was driving him mad. He couldn't get her out of his head. Of course, she never really had been out of his head. He had taken her ability empathically, which meant that every time his hands filled with those pretty blue sparks- _blue like her eyes_, a traitorous part of his mind whispered- a part of him had to remember her.

Dammit, he regretted killing her. He hadn't regretted killing anyone since Virginia Gray (his other haunting, incidentally).

But his mother was just that- his mother. She had been... more. So much more.

Sylar glanced across the darkened room and spied his reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall, and immediately swore loudly. It had happened again! Even thinking about her caused him to shift unconsciously! He stared into the mirror, drinking in her face, watching her. She smiled that innocent, angelic smile she had first given Gabriel Gray the day she saved his life. And, just as it had every time this had happened, it broke him. "Anyone but her," he whispered to his reflection. "Anyone but her!"

A single tear leaked from the wide blue eye. Hesitantly, Sylar reached up to touch the mirror, trying desperately to wipe the tear away. He couldn't stand to see her crying. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make his hands reach her face. He couldn't comfort her now, because she wasn't really here. She would never be here again. He could never watch her shock her way through life again. Could never hear her silver laugh except coming through his own mouth. Could never feel the gentle touch of her lips on his...

His soft touch against the mirror turned violent, and his fist slammed into the glass, shattering it into a hundred pieces. He knew he was crying now, truly crying, but he didn't care. What did the image of Sylar matter, here where no one would see him? Whirling around, he threw himself onto the ratty sofa, allowing the tears to flow freely down his face once more.

God, why had he done it? At the time it had made sense. She had betrayed him, and besides she wasn't safe with him around anyway. But now? He loved her. He thought perhaps he had since that first moment she had walked into his shop. He could admit it to himself, if not to anyone else. She had been an angel, albiet one just as broken as her watch, and with a decidedly tarnished halo. But he had loved her all the same. And just like he always did, he had destroyed everything he loved. Sylar thought that perhaps he had destroyed the best part of himself with her.

_"People never change."_

_"You did. I saw you."_

He repeated the words to himself, knowing that he was probably shapeshifting with the dialogue. She had said that to him. She had believed he could be a better person. Perhaps she'd thought that if he could do it, so could she. But she was far more likely to become someone good. The thing about a tarnished halo was that it could be polished. The thing about a broken watch, was that it could be fixed. Elle could have saved him from himself, if he hadn't let his own stupidity and anger get in the way. She had wanted to try.

But... maybe he could still try, in memory of what she had believed in. He still had this tiny piece of her here, in this sick, sick way that he did. If there was a little piece of a broken-winged angel still with him, couldn't there be a fragment of redemption, too? Maybe. Probably. But Sylar was very, very sure that he couldn't do it on his own. He wasn't strong that way.

"I need help."

* * *

The rain pounded down on the parched earth of Coyote Sands. Nathan, Angela, and Noah were all still in the cafe, but Peter and Claire had decided to take a walk together, rain be damned.

He smiled to see them. They had been enemies for so long, he could hardly think of them as the people who might bring him redemption, but they were. In some deep part of himself, he had always known his nemesis and once-brother to be a good man. Peter could help him if anyone could. And as for Claire... well, Claire's very name meant light. What better than light to drive away all this darkness he'd brought around himself?

"Peter!" he called. "Claire!"

Immediately, the pair whipped around, Peter stepping defensively in front of Claire. "Sylar!" he shouted. "What do you want!"

"Your help," he said quietly, walking toward them. Peter raised his hands defensively. Sylar wasn't sure what good he thought that would do, since as far as he was aware, Peter could do nothing more than fly at the moment. "Stay back!" the empath said fiercely.

Sylar frowned, but stopped in his tracks. He knew they had more than enough reason to fear him, hate him. "Please," he said. "I need your help."

Claire peered around her uncle. "What for?" she asked, venom dripping from every syllable.

"I have to stop being Sylar," he said. Peter stared, and Claire's mouth fell open slightly in surprise.

"W-what?" Peter gasped.

He shook his head sadly. "I can't do this anymore. I've tried twice before to stop all of this, but I killed my two chances at redemption. Before I killed Ted Sprague, I was trying to hide myself away, so what I had painted with Isaac's gift would never come true. New York City in ashes... I would never want that. But it didn't do any good, did it? I misinterpreted those paintings. We all did, I suppose. And then, when Angela told me I was... I wanted it to be true so much. If I was your brother, maybe I could be un-cursed. But dear Noah shattered that dream, didn't he?" Sylar chuckled darkly, and there wasn't a bit of humor in it. "And afterwards..."

It took everything he had to force himself to continue, but this was his last chance to save the world from himself. They had to understand. "Afterwards, I killed her. She was the only thing in the world that mattered, and I killed her." He was suddenly glad for the pouring rain, because it hid the tears that once again were sliding down his face.

"Killed who?" Claire asked.

Sylar sighed. "Elle," he said, and his voice broke audibly on her name. "I... I loved her. She broke me, turned me into this, but she could have saved me, too. She was the only person who didn't see me as a monster. And I proved her wrong. I am. I'm not worth saving, but the world is worth saving from me. And the only way I can do that is to get rid of Sylar forever."

Peter finally dropped his arms from his defensive stance, and took a few slow steps toward Sylar. As he opened his mouth to say something, Claire grabbed him by the elbow and spun him around to face her. "What are you doing?" she hissed in what she apparently thought was a low whisper.

"What do you mean 'what am I doing'?" he hissed back. "We have to help him."

"Are you _insane_?" Claire said angrily. "Peter, you hate him as much as I do. We can't--"

"Yes. We can. Look," Peter said. "I've experienced the Hunger that comes with his power. It would turn anyone into a monster. It nearly did _me_. When I had his ability, I almost killed Nathan and my mother! Trust me, this isn't entirely his fault. He can't help it that he can't resist it. If this is what it takes to save the world..." He trailed away.

Claire pursed her lips, looking mutinous, but said nothing more. Peter turned back to his once-brother. "Come with us," he said, extending a hand to him. Sylar nodded, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he took the offered hand. _This was for Elle..._

* * *

_Six Years Later..._

Claire's golden laugh rang out through the smoky interior of the bar. Gabriel smiled, watching her lean across to plant a gentle kiss on his brother's lips. Yes, Peter was his brother after all. Angela had had premonitions about the power he would have when he grew older and the Company judged it best to take him away from Samson Gray before he could be emotionally damaged the way his elder sibling had been.

Things certainly had changed a lot in the six years since that rain-drenched night in Coyote Sands. Claire and Peter, freed of the constraints of relation, had struck up a very different kind of relationship. And it seemed that these abilities were tied deeper into the heart than anyone but Charles Deveaux or Hiro Nakamura had known. Falling in love had somehow restored Peter's abilities to their former levels.

The Company was gone now, but a new sort had risen in its place; no bagging and tagging this time, no secrecy, no mindwipes, just support for those who needed help adjusting to their abilities and a crack team for individuals who proved to be dangerous after all. This new Company had been founded by Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet, and Gabriel Gray.

Yes, Gabriel Gray. Of all the things that had changed, he was probably the most startling of all. Sylar was gone. Oh, he still felt the occasional twinge from the Hunger, but he was in control now, and taking abilities empathically. It didn't work quite the same way for him as it did for Peter- he had to know the person rather well before he was able to absorb their power. He had a brother, and a best friend from a most unexpected quarter. Who would have thought that the man who literally ran him through with a sword would one day become his closest confidante? But Hiro was incredibly forgiving of all the wrongs he had committed in the past, and eventually came to accept him as a friend.

Tonight, on the third anniversary of the New Company, their close-knit group of friends had all gone out for a drink. Barbara, Mohinder, Parkman, and Hiro had left about an hour back, but those who _could_ regenerate their livers had stayed on, futilely attempting to get a buzz.

The sound of Claire's favorite song came over the bar's speakers. The immortal cheerleader laughed and dragged her reluctant fiance into the empty space at the back of the room to dance.

Gabriel picked up his glass of Scotch to take another drink, turning on his stool to watch his small family dancing. God, who would have ever thought, six years ago, that he would have ended up here? Granted, it wasn't perfect heaven- most people, even within their friends, were a little wary of him, and he was eternally set apart from them. But it was still a thousand times better than he deserved, after all he'd done.

His eyes scanned idly across the bar, taking in the pair of heavyset men playing pool, the group of college kids presumably out for a night of bar-hopping, the tiny blonde standing in the far corner... Gabriel did a double-take, staring at the blonde in amazement. _ It couldn't be..._

But it was. As impossible as it seemed, Elle Bishop was alive, and standing just feet from him.

Her bright blue eyes met his, and she stiffened. Hurriedly, she tugged on the sleeve of the man standing next to her. He leaned down next to her and she whispered something in his ear, a look of... well, not really fright, more anxiety on her face. The man glanced across at her, and his hazel eyes widened at the sight of Gabriel. Immediately he took Elle's hand and lead her out of the bar.

The music had ended, and Claire and Peter returned at that moment. "Hey, are you okay?" Peter asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I have," Gabriel whispered.

"What?" Claire asked, still smiling from the dancing.

Gabriel shook his head. "She's here. _She's_ here!" He dropped his head into his hands, slumping against the bar. "Oh god, how is this possible? How can she be--?"

Peter put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, take it easy, man. Who's here?"

He couldn't answer. Couldn't say her name aloud. His stomach churned. "She's here. But... but she's dead. I killed her..." He stared around wildly, meeting Peter's concerned gaze with confused eyes. "I killed her, Peter! So how is she here?"

"You mean Elle?" Claire gasped.

Gabriel nodded miserably. "She was... right there." He gestured vaguely. "There was some guy with her... oh god. I think I'm gonna be sick." He rose from his seat, wobbling slightly as he gained his feet. Nausea roiling in his gut, he stumbled across the room. "Gabriel!" his brother called, but he ignored him.

* * *

Hours later, he was still wandering the streets, not really sure where he was going, just lost in the haze of pain and shock that clouded his mind more effectively than alcohol ever had. The slight October drizzle fell from the dark sky, dampening his black wool coat and turning the pavement to a black slick glimmering in the streetlights. A gust of wind flapped his coat out behind him for a moment before switching direction and driving him forward again. "Elle," he whispered. "How are you alive?"

"Resurrection," came a soft voice from somewhere to his right. It froze him in his tracks.

"Elle?" he said quietly.

She emerged from the alley, looking exactly as he remembered her. Her bright blue eyes that had haunted him since that night on the beach were sad, staring into his. Gabriel's heart shattered into a thousand fragments just looking at her. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Finally, she whispered, "Why?"

He shook his head. "I've asked myself that same question for six years," he said. "I still don't have an answer. I don't know why."

Her lip trembled, and a single tear spilled down her cheek. Unthinking, he stepped forward to wipe it away, still unable to watch her cry after all the intervening years. With a soft cry, she leapt back from him. "Stay away from me, Sylar!" she said forcefully, backing away slowly.

"No," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the agony of seeing her fear him. "Not Sylar anymore. Gabriel now." Elle cocked her head to one side in confusion, but she stopped backing away. "You were right in the end," he said. "I _could_ change. Do you really think Peter and Claire would stay near me if I were still that... that animal?"

"Peter and Claire?" she asked in confusion.

Gabriel shrugged. "Didn't you see them at the bar?"

She shook her head. "We'd only just gotten there when I spotted you and left."

"We?"

Elle nodded. "Me and Zack. He's the one who resurrected me. That's what he does- he brings back the dead. He's been taking care of me since I... well, I couldn't really keep a handle on things when he first brought me back last month." Her powers. Of course. These abilities were tied so deeply to the heart (as Peter had discovered) that naturally the aftereffects of being killed would make controlling her electricity difficult.

"I guess that answers my question," he said, an almost-smile crossing his face.

She glared stonily back, and he noticed as she did so the thin white line, almost invisible, slashing across her forehead. Most people would never have seen it, but he had been looking, and his heart, which he had thought was already broken apart, cracked again and he thought he would die from a kind of pain all the regeneration in the world couldn't heal him from. How had he ever hurt her like that? And god, he couldn't stand to see her looking at him like this. He had to get away from this, before he tore in two. "Elle," he said, his voice cracking on her name, "I- I know it doesn't do any good now, but I really am sorry. More sorry than you can possibly know." Gabriel turned and walked away into the rain that was coming down much harder now.

He had only gone a half-block when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around. "Gabriel," she said. That was all. She just looked up at him, searching for... something.

"Was any of it real?" she asked quietly.

A bitter smile crossed his lips. "All of it," he said. "Elle, I loved you. I still do."

Her eyes lit up, though he could tell she was trying to disguise it. "I guess that makes two," she said quietly.

Gabriel's heart accelerated at her words. "What are you saying?" he asked, suddenly feeling like the naive young man he had been on that first day when she brought him peach pie.

She bit her lip. "I'm saying that I forgive you. As insane as it is, I forgive you. And..." A glimmer of the old Elle, who made the strangest jokes and laughed at things no one else understood, showed through. She took a step toward him, closing the already short gap between them. "...and we can't just take what we want anymore."

He smiled at her invocation of the happiest memory he had. "Who says?" he whispered, leaning in closer to her. His lips were inches away from hers, but he didn't close the distance. Gabriel knew this was her choice, whether they parted now as friends or went on to something more. It wasn't his right to take that away from her. His dark eyes met hers. For a moment there was a glimmer of worry in the aqua depths, and he thought she was going to pull away.

But then her arms twined around his neck and she brought her lips crashing against his. The world disappeared around them. As he slanted his mouth against hers, finally the last scars fell away. No matter what he had done over the last few years, no matter how much he had changed, his past self had still had a tiny foothold in him. Only this, only Elle, was enough to put it all truly behind him.

Elle broke the kiss first, pulling back to meet his eyes again. His hands tangled in her blonde locks, and she smiled dreamily. "We ought to get you out of the rain," he said gently. "Getting wet can't be good for you."

She nodded. "No. It's really not." He laughed softly, and kissed her forehead.

"Come on. I'll walk you home."

~fin~


End file.
